Roll With the Changes: A Destiel & Sam Ficlet
by Iliary Tryvggi
Summary: Dean decides it's necessary to explain a thing to Sam, and Sam would probably sell his soul not to hear it. (Kind of a follow up to my first story "You Shook Me: A Destiel One-Shot" that after some encouragement from a couple readers, came to be after three hours and two glasses of wine. Feedback/requests is/are always appreciated and rewarded if I'm not busy with school!)


It had been one week since Dean and Castiel had sex, and Dean was sure about six things:

One, he wasn't gay. Or all-the-way-gay, that is. The morning after, they went to breakfast with Sam, and their waitress was smokin'. Tall, blonde, and fully equipped for a fun time, she had made eyes at Dean for a full hour before slipping him her number. As much as he wanted to show her the time of her life, Dean knew what that would do to Cas. Actually, while he kind of wanted to go, some part of him was appalled at the thought of hurting his friend, and he had quietly gotten rid of the number after they left.

Two, Castiel was serious. He needed Dean, and now that it was out (between them, at least) he hadn't left like he usually did. He'd stayed with the brothers all the way to Montana, where they dealt with a feisty ghost in an airplane hangar. Even though the world was falling down around them, Castiel ignored his duties to stay with Dean.

Three, Dean realized that in his own way, he needed Castiel as well. They hadn't gone to bed together since, but he needed the angel as much as he needed his brother, but definitely in a different way. He felt more at peace when Cas was around, and was more on his game, too. Unsure of whether or not it was a romantic thing, he hung back and pondered on it, turning the idea in his mind obsessively.

Four, he wanted to fuck Cas again. Bad. He had never had a lay so good he passed out, and sex with Castiel was something astounding, filthy, and pure. Even though he was still sore, he hungered for it deep in his bones. Cas's touch, the rock of hips against him, the dry lips insistent as they eagerly mouthed the hollow of his neck, those inexperienced hands running over every inch of him in wonderlust, that dick so deep inside of him he could almost feel it everywhere.

It felt wrong on so many levels, but then again, "right" wasn't exactly the thing for a supernatural serial killer. This fallen angel's most innocent touch was sending all sorts of signals to his body, and he was still figuring out how to react mentally while his lower half got hard enough to ache relentlessly.

He had no idea what he was going to do, and Castiel was patient enough to wait for now, but he would want an answer soon. Hopefully, he would be able to steer Cas away from the frighteningly hardcore porn and get him watching something without guys who have "pearling" done. When they woke up that morning, Castiel had asked why their dicks didn't have the little bumps, and Dean almost had a heart attack.

Five, Sam knew, and he was fucking freaked out about it, even if he hadn't actually said anything or let on.

While he needed to sort things out with Cas, that could wait, because he needed to talk to Sam. Sam deserved to know, even if Dean decided to skimp on the nitty-gritty details. Sam was a essential part of Team Free Will, and to leave him hanging wasn't something Dean could do, even if every bit of him cried out otherwise.

This led to number six, in which Dean had to break it down for Sam.

So here they were, cruising along in the Impala on their way to Podunk, North Carolina. Cas had left at Dean's insistence to "check on things", and without argument, he disappeared in an almost-silent flutter of wings. All was now quiet on the western front.

Taking a deep breath, Dean broached the extremely delicate subject the best he could.

"Sammy, you ever heard of that show, _Touched by an Angel_?"

Sam pulled out the Bitchface Ultimate, and Dean burst out laughing, his embarrassment, confusion, and inability to cope with the situation at hand taking a backseat to the absolute best expression he'd ever seen his brother make.

Tears in his eyes, Dean could hardly see to drive, so he immediately pulled over to the side of the road. His sides were splitting, so he put the Impala in park and let loose the gales of laughter building up in his belly.

Sam sat still, facing straight ahead. His cheeks were flushed and his lips pursed so tightly they were bone-white. When he walked in that hotel room the week before, he had seen an image he would have never wanted nor expected. Not only was his brother having sex with an angel, but he was also having sex with Castiel, who was a male angel. Or an angel in a man's body who'd begun to take on the mentality of a man, but to delve further into that would just be splitting hairs.

As much as he tried to ignore it, apparently Dean had realized he knew and felt it was necessary to explain.

Catching his breath, the oldest Winchester wiped the tears from his shining eyes, his grin wide and proud. "You gotta admit that's funny."

"You have the subtlety of a Mack truck hitting a SmartCar." Sam replied drily.

Rolling his eyes, Dean calmed down enough to say, "No, but seriously. I know you know."

"I know a lot of things, Dean. It doesn't mean I want to talk about all of them."

One eyebrow rose as Dean stated, "It doesn't matter whether or not you wanna know. I just need to explain something to you."

"You can do whatever you want with Cas, but I don't want to know. I think it's weird that you're apparently sleeping with our resident fallen angel—who just so happens to be a guy—but that's your thing."

Affronted, Dean turned and faced Sam. "Well that didn't sound homophobic or anything, Sam."

Scoffing, Sam finally looked at his brother for the first time since the beginning of this conversation. "Dean, you know it's not like that."

"Oh, but do I? Are you more freaked out by the fact that I'm fucking an angel, or that I'm fucking a dude? Are you freaked out by the fact that your brother may kinda gay?"

Sam brushed his hair away from his face with his hands. "No, man. Don't put it like that, because you know that's not what I meant."

"Tell me, Sammy, because I'm a little confused here." His voice was rising, and the humor had left the situation entirely. The interior of the Impala was as cold as his tone.

"I don't care who you sleep with! I'm just surprised it's a guy, and I'm really damn surprised that it's Cas!"

Dean let that wash over him as he started the Impala back up and pulled on to the deserted road. They drove in silence at a comfortable seventy miles an hour for several minutes before Sam spoke up.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Tell me what you want to tell me."

Instead of picking a fight, Dean responded, "Well, long story short, Cas told me that after the Leviathans killed him, God brought him back at a cost: he was damned to love me."

His mouth curved into a cynical smile, for this conversation not going how he had originally planned, although he should have planned for this route all along.

Rather than nitpick over the fact that someone loving his brother wasn't damning, whoever the person may be, he simply answered, "Okay, and?"

"And I freaked out. Then he told me that since I couldn't return what he felt, he could only kill himself. I couldn't let him, Sam. He tried it once, and I couldn't let him do that again."

Sam's eyes popped open wide. "He what?!"

Dean didn't look at his brother as he nodded, his lips tight. "Yeah. With my gun. He came right back, but still. That leaves a mark on a guy."

His words were met with silence, encouraging him to go on.

"I didn't know what to do, so I did what I thought was best. I'm not gonna get into details—"

"Thank you for that."

"—but I'm still figuring this all out, and I thought as the third wheel—"

"Hey!"

"—of this tricycle, I thought you should at least understand the basics of the situation."

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Sam inquired, "So, uh, are you two, y'know."

More than somewhat uncomfortable, Dean shrugged. "I don't know, man. This is completely new territory for me, so I'm figuring it out as we go."

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, so should I just get my own motel room from now on?"

An air shift and the faint fluttering of wings was all the warning they were given before they heard, "If you don't want to be in the room while Dean and I have intercourse, then yes, I would suggest it."

Normally, Dean would have busted up laughing at the "nope nope didn't hear that nope" expression on Sam's face, but he felt his own cheeks reddening in embarrassment and a strange pleasure from hearing Cas say the terrible word "intercourse".

"Uh, okay Cas, you and I are going to need to hash out your vocabulary later, but for now, let's just try to get through the next six hours as un-awkwardly as we can."

Castiel sat back on the seat, unsure of what he did wrong. He muddled through the possibilities until Dean saw a light bulb go off in his head. Before he could advise the angel against it, Castiel opened his mouth.

Leaning forward, he peered at Sam and stated, "Sam, I apologize for using your computer to watch a pornographic film. Dean has since told me that it was wrong to utilize your computer without permission, and that it was a poorly done film, although he did like when I—"

"Cas, buddy!" Dean shouted, face almost literally flaming, "We are not gonna talk about that, especially with Sam. You got me?"

Sam was almost huddled against the door, his mental anguish almost agony as he realized Castiel was talking about the gay porn that both gave his computer a virus and terrible nightmares after he watched thirty seconds of it in spellbound horror. He'd seen his share of porn, but that was just, wrong. Elementally wrong.

"I—I thought humans talked about their sex lives? I thought it was a casual topic of discussion." Castiel informed, confused.

Sighing loudly, Dean turned to the backseat. "Cas, you and I are going to have a long talk about what and what not to say, okay? Let's just get to a motel first."

Sam pulled out a bottle of beer from the warm six-pack on the floor by his feet and popped it open. Taking a swig, he flickered his eyes to both his brother and their resident angel. After he swallowed the warm suds, he declared, "Because I can't take anymore of this conversation, I'm going to put on the radio until we get to the motel, and no one is going to talk except to say 'good night'. Got it?" He flipped on the dial and some new pop rock came on. Before Dean could protest, Sam whipped out a "fuck with me, I dare you" face, and Dean's jaw shut, his teeth grinding to the awful music.

It was a long ride.


End file.
